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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656042">Bad Things Happen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarisNebula/pseuds/PolarisNebula'>PolarisNebula</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), DCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Nightwing (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types, Supernatural, Thunderbirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Head Injury, Kidnapping, Other, Sickfic, Torture, Violence, Waterboarding, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:53:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656042</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarisNebula/pseuds/PolarisNebula</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of stories based on prompts from my Bad Thing Happen Bingo card, which is posted as the first chapter. A variety of fandoms will be covered and warnings, tags and characters will be updated as I go.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Bad Things Happen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>           </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Just Leave Me Here (Broken ribs)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thunderbirds sickfic. Scott's got himself banged up on a rescue gone wrong. Gordon and Virgil take care of him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shutting off One’s engines, Scott leaned back in his flight chair and closed his eyes. Rubbing the heels of his hands against his forehead, he fought back feelings of nausea and dizziness. The back of his head was sticky and Scott suspected that it wasn’t from sweat. Clicking his harness open, Scott pushed himself to his feet, steadying himself against the back of the chair, and sighed deeply. It wasn’t often that a rescue went wrong but, when it did, the guilt he felt overwhelmed all other senses. Wrapping an arm around his ribs, he hissed at the jarring pain that he felt as he climbed through the hatch of Thunderbird One. </p>
<p>The hangar was empty and the light was dim, as he’d expected at 2am and he was glad of it. He hadn’t wanted to discuss the call and what had gone wrong. Slightly unsteady on his feet, Scott made his way to the elevator, revelling in the silence and stillness.</p>
<p>Of course, he had reckoned without the ever-seeing eye of Thunderbird Five.</p>
<p>“Scott?” The communicator crackled into life as Scott reached the elevator.</p>
<p>“I’m here, John,” Scott replied, his voice echoing around the hangar, startling him.</p>
<p>“You OK?” John’s voice, full of concern, hurt Scott’s head.</p>
<p>“Yep, all good. I’m gonna get a quick shower and then hit the hay.” Scott wished that John would just leave him alone. “We can do the debrief tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“I saw what happened. That had to have hurt,” John continued to probe and Scott began to get annoyed, the pain in his ribs making him short-tempered and unusually sharp.</p>
<p>“It’s fine, I’m good. Just leave it, John. If I need your help I’ll ask for it!” snapped Scott, as the elevator reached the ground floor.</p>
<p>“FAB, Scott. Get Virgil to take a look at you, will you? We’ll talk tomorrow,” John sounded hurt and Scott could imagine him reeling back from the control panel as if he’d been struck. As Scott opened his mouth to agree, John cut the connection, abruptly ending the conversation.</p>
<p>Scott sighed. He’d have to apologise in the morning for being so irritable.</p>
<p>The lounge area was dark, apart from a solitary lamp on the coffee table which was giving off a dull light. Scott was grateful for the near darkness, his eyes stinging and his head thumping. Unzipping the neck of his Nomex flight suit, Scott toed off his boots and sat down heavily on the couch, grunting at the pain and discomfort. He felt gingerly around his ribs, trying to ascertain where the tenderness was focussed but couldn’t pin it down. His entire body ached at this point, so trying to find individual locations was difficult. </p>
<p>Scott knew he should get up, shower and get some sleep, but the problem was, now he had sat down, he wasn’t sure that he could get up again. His ribs were roaring in pain and his head felt muffled and slow, limiting his eyesight to almost tunnel vision. Scott rubbed his eyes and tried to fix them on his communicator. He’d call Virgil. Virgil would know what to do. Virgil would help. Scott’s vision blurred in and out of focus as he struggled forward on the couch, determined to stand. With one hand on the couch, he reached out for the table with the other hand, but badly misjudged the distance. Pitching forward, his head connected solidly with the edge of the table and he hit the floor. Groaning, Scott put a hand to his head, battling with consciousness. Darkness began to crowd at the edge of his vision, as he closed his eyes and let his hand drop, giving up the fight.</p>
<p>-----oo00oo------</p>
<p>Gordon whistled softly to himself as he slung the towel around his shoulders and padded down the corridor towards the lounge. 5am was a great time for an early swim. The sun was only just coming up and the water would still be crisp and cool. Rounding the corner, he stumbled slightly as he tripped on an abandoned pair of flight boots. Gordon frowned and took a closer look. Scott’s flight boots. It was unlike him to leave stuff lying around, especially uniform. He’d expect it of Alan, but not Scott. He picked the boots up and, figuring he’d win some brownie points for being tidy, took them back up the corridor and propped them up against Scott’s door. Gordon listened carefully, his head bent towards the door, but couldn’t hear any sign of Scott being up. Gordon knew that he’d had a late call last night so figured that he was sleeping in. </p>
<p>Heading back towards the lounge, Gordon noticed that the table lamp was still on. He knew that Virgil had left it on last night so Scott could find his way to bed. Hopping over the couch, Gordon reached out to turn the lamp off and then caught sight of the silver and blue of Scott’s uniform on the floor and pulled up short.</p>
<p>Dropping to his knees next to Scott’s prone figure, Gordon quickly felt for a pulse. Finding it erratic and sketchy, Gordon hit the button on his communicator.</p>
<p>“Virgil! Virge! Wake up! I need you in the lounge right now!” Gordon’s voice was strained and urgent and it didn’t take long for Virgil to answer.</p>
<p>“FAB. On my way,” came Vigil’s sleepy voice.</p>
<p>Gordon looked down at Scott again and, running his eyes quickly over his body, appraised the injuries that he could see. The head injury was the most concerning. He could see the large lump over Scott’s left eye, which was blackened and swollen. He thought that he could also make out blood on the carpet underneath, but it was difficult to see in the dim light.</p>
<p>“Scott?” he gently prompted, as he carefully cupped his brother’s face. “Scott, can you hear me?”</p>
<p>He was rewarded with a groan.</p>
<p>“Scott,” Gordon echoed. “It’s OK. Virgil’s on his way.”</p>
<p>Another groan. “Gordon?” Scott croaked and gripped Gordon’s wrist.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s me. Hang on, let’s get you up onto the couch.”</p>
<p>“No, I’m OK. Just leave me here,” Scott wheezed, his breath hitching.</p>
<p>“You’re kidding, right? You’re not OK and I’m not leaving you there. I’m going to put my hands under your arms and get you up onto the couch.”</p>
<p>“Nah, uh-uh,” Scott shook his head slightly. “Hurts too much.”</p>
<p>“What hurts?” Gordon loosened Scott’s grip on his wrist and began to run his hands down Scott’s body.</p>
<p>“Fuck! That! That hurts!” Scott drew a quick, painful breath as Gordon reached his ribs. </p>
<p>Gordon felt a hand on his shoulder as Virgil peered down at Scott. Virgil looked surprisingly awake, considering the time, but his hair was sticking up at all different angles, showing how quickly he’d got out of bed.</p>
<p>“It really doesn’t look very comfortable down there on the floor. And you must be freezing,” Virgil said, as Gordon moved to one side and allowed him access to their brother. “Gordon, can you put the light on please?”</p>
<p>As the overhead spotlights blinked on, Virgil drew a breath through his teeth as he saw Scott clearly. “You’re pretty banged up, but I can’t treat you on the floor. Gordon and I are going to get either side of you and move you onto the couch, OK?”</p>
<p>Scott squinted at Virgil and frowned, showing his disapproval.</p>
<p>“Take a deep breath…” Virgil warned, as he and Gordon supported Scott under both arms and lifted.</p>
<p>Scott cried out in pain, wrapping his arms around his ribs, as Virgil and Gordon gently lowered him onto the couch.</p>
<p>Virgil carefully pushed Scott’s arms aside and unzipped his flight suit to the waist. Scott’s chest and ribcage were black and blue, bruises and contusions blossoming across the skin. Virgil whistled through his teeth. “Well, I see why that hurts. What else?”</p>
<p>“Head,” Scott ground out through the pain.</p>
<p>“There’s blood back here,” Gordon parted Scott’s dark hair gently. “And it’s cut badly. I’ll get an ice pack.” He leapt over the back of the couch and headed for the kitchen.</p>
<p>Virgil carefully put his hands on either side of Scott’s face to get his attention and spoke directly to him. “I’m going to patch you up, OK?” Scott nodded slightly, as Virgil continued. “Wish you’d come and woken me up, big brother.”</p>
<p>“Tried,” Scott whispered, as he closed his hand over Virgil’s against his face. “I tried.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Virgil replied quietly, leaning forward until his forehead gently touched his brother’s. “I know."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Not That Smart (Interrogation)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Poor Gordon suffers at the hands of The Hood.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gordon’s head snapped backwards and lolled to one side from the blow, as the zip ties were tightened around his wrists, binding his hands securely to the arms of the metal chair.</p><p>“I don’t enjoy causing you pain, Mr Tracy,” said the bald man standing over Gordon, with a hint of a smile in his voice which suggested just the opposite. “But I will ask my man to continue to do it until you give me the information that I am seeking. Now, I’m going to ask you again: what are the access codes for the Thunderbirds?”</p><p>Gordon looked up at the man and squinted. His right eye was swelling and the cut on his forehead was steadily dripping blood down across his brow. “What do I call you? Mr Hood? The Hood? Just Hood? Anyway, you think I memorise stuff like that? I’m not that smart. You picked the wrong brother. I can’t tell you anything.” The aquanaut sounded braver than he felt and his hands closed into fists as he tried to hide the shaking.</p><p>“Oh dear, Mr Tracy, that decision really does disappoint me,” The Hood’s voice was refined and calm. “I’m afraid that I’m going to have to let my associate, Fuse, try a little harder to persuade you.”</p><p>The Hood stepped carefully to one side, his elaborate robes swishing around his ankles, a cloud of sophisticated cologne in his wake and the hulking shadow of Fuse took his place, filling Gordon’s vision. Shit, thought Gordon, this was really going to hurt.</p><p>“Alright, Squid?” Fuse grinned nastily.</p><p>“I’m good, thanks, Fuse. Where’s your delightful sister?” Gordon forced bravado again, determined not to let them see how scared he was. Damn it, he thought, how long was it going to take for the others to locate him?</p><p>“Oh, she’s ‘ere, doncha worry about that,” Fuse replied, chuckling. “In fact, she ‘as a few “delightful” surprises for ya, should you decide that ya don’t want to tell us what we want to know.”</p><p>Then Havoc’s voice in his ear and her hands on his shoulders. “Oh, yes, some really delightful surprises!” She laughed out loud, the noise stark and sinister as it echoed through the grey, metal-lined room. Gordon turned his head slightly to try and see her, swallowing hard. </p><p>He barely had time to turn back as Fuse lashed out with a punch to the jaw, the blow landing hard against his left cheekbone, swiftly followed by a fist slamming into his gut. Gordon instantly tried to double over, breathing hard, but a hand cruelly fisted into his blonde hair, dragging his head upwards and holding him in place. Wheezing, Gordon didn’t have time to take a breath, before another fist slammed into his rib cage, followed by another and another. Despite trying hard not to cry out, the onslaught drew a choked and ragged cry of pain from Gordon’s lips, which had Havoc positively dancing in delight.</p><p>“Enough. Again, Mr Tracy. What are the access codes? Let’s start with an easy one - what’s the access code for Thunderbird Four? Come now, you surely know that one.” Gordon tried to focus. The Hood’s voice was filling his ears, his face filling his vision, as Gordon’s head swam and his vision narrowed violently. The hand in his hair tightened maliciously as Havoc pulled his head backwards even more and placed a hand under his jaw, holding his head in place. The aquanaut gasped and sucked in a painful breath.</p><p>“Answer the man,” Havoc cried, shrilly.</p><p>Gordon coughed, blood dripping from a split lip, and looked at The Hood directly. Bright amber eyes met brown eyes and Gordon held the glare. He smiled, almost imperceptibly, and took another deep breath. “It’s five, four, three, two, fuck you!” ground out Gordon, wincing as he grinned, his teeth stained red with blood.</p><p>“Fuck’s sake!” screamed Havoc into his ear as she let go of his jaw and cuffed him around the head in frustration. Gordon’s head fell forward against his chest and he desperately tried to stop the world from spinning.</p><p>The Hood sighed and slowly shook his head. “Mr Tracy, I do feel that you’re going to live to regret your choice. Not for long, of course.” He indicated to Fuse, who bent down and zip-tied Gordon’s ankles to the legs of the chair. “I’ve often wondered whether a fish could actually drown in water. I imagine that we’re about to find out. Do let me know if you change your mind.”</p><p>In a swift movement, Havoc dragged Gordon’s head backwards until the front feet of the chair began to lift off the floor. The blonde aquanaut’s throat was stretched until the back of his neck almost touched his shoulder blades and he began to cough from the pressure and the strain on his chest.</p><p>“I’d save that breath if I were you,” Havoc grinned, as Fuse placed a muslin cloth over Gordon’s face. Realising what was about to happen, Gordon began to struggle harder, thrashing his head left and right and straining against the hands that were holding him. Ice cold water splashed across his face and chest, as he continued to fight, making it difficult for his tormentors to aim the flow of the water. An elbow crashed into the side of his head, making him see stars and stunning him momentarily. It was all the time that they needed. A stead flow of water began to pour over Gordon’s mouth and nose and he clenched his fists as he began to choke and gag, trying to draw a breath.</p><p>“The beauty of waterboarding is that the recipient can really and truly believe that they’re drowning. At the right angle, the sinuses and throat fill with water, making it impossible to breathe. Of course, the human body begins to react instinctively and struggles for breath, taking in even more water.” The Hood stood watching, showing no emotion, other than an apparently keen interest in the process. </p><p>Gordon had often wondered what it would be like to drown. He’d come close a couple of times, but never on dry land and never with the glaring realisation of what was happening. His previous near drownings had been peaceful, like a gentle drifting off into the arms of the water. But this was violent. As his nose and mouth filled, everything became water. It was all he could think about, all he could imagine. The cold stung his cheeks and eyes and he imagined his lungs shattering into thousands of ice cold, brittle shards as he gasped pointlessly for breath.</p><p>“Stop!” A voice cut through Gordon’s consciousness and the flow of water slowed and the cloth removed. Straining for breath, like a fish out of water, his mouth open uselessly, still unable to breathe. And then a small cough and a deluge of water escaped from his mouth and his nose as the chair’s righted and his head is allowed to drop onto his chest.</p><p>The Hood waited for Gordon to stop wheezing and then dipped his head to his level, taking in the bloodshot amber eyes, the cuts and bruises and the tears, yes tears, that are escaping down the boy’s cheeks. “I’m not going to ask you many more times. What are the access codes for the Thunderbird vehicles?”</p><p>Gordon looked directly at The Hood and shook his head grimly. “I can’t tell you.”</p><p>“Can’t? Or won’t?” The Hood asked, thoughtfully. “Either way doesn’t end well for you, I’m afraid.”</p><p>In a swift movement, Gordon’s head was pulled backwards again and the cloth replaced as he thrashed in the chair, fighting against what he knows is coming next. The first wave of water was so cold it stole his breath, leaving him with no reserve as the onslaught continued. His struggling slowed as he felt his energy being sapped, his mouth gaping to try to take a breath but only finding more water. He began to feel blackness crowding into the edges of his consciousness. The bright stars behind his eyelids were strangely soothing, as Gordon felt his world tip and tilt. He could hear voices, a commotion, but was too far underwater to be able to reach out. So he let the water take him.</p><p>-----oo00oo------</p><p>“Gordon! Breathe! For fuck’s sake, breathe!”</p><p>The voice sounded vaguely familiar but the weight on his chest was crushing him and Gordon wanted to rest. He was just so tired and the deep blue sleep that he was floating in felt good.</p><p>“Gordon!”</p><p>The voice again. Gordon tried to reach for it, but it was just out of his consciousness, a stretch too far for his battered body and mind. It was easier to just lie there, in the tranquil still of the underwater.</p><p>“Shit! John, I can’t get him to breathe! Help me!”</p><p>Gordon listened with interest, wondering who the voices were talking about. Then another weight on his chest and Gordon felt bubbles rising below him, pulling him to the surface.</p><p>The brutal shock of consciousness coincided with Gordon turning his head to one side and choking up copious amounts water. He drew in a deep breath. He felt hands on him and he began to struggle until he heard Virgil’s voice. “It’s fine, Gordon, it’s us. We’re just trying to help you sit up.”</p><p>Gordon relaxed and allowed Virgil and John to gently sit him upright. Opening his eyes, he tried to focus, but the world remained blurry. He felt arms around him and the warmth of a blanket being draped across his shoulders. Peering to his left, Gordon found Virgil’s face, a study in concern and worry. He leaned into his brother’s embrace, resting his head against the warmth of Virgil’s chest.</p><p>“It’s OK, Gordy. We have you, you’re safe.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Deadly Distraction (Backhand Slap)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Scott has a nasty run in with Havoc and Fuse as they use him to create a distraction. Gordon to the rescue!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scott realised he’d made a mistake almost as soon as he’d opened the hatch to the industrial grain silo. Something didn’t feel right and he should have gone with his gut, but the innate desire to ensure that no one was in danger drove him forward.</p><p>“Hello? Is anyone here?” he called out, squinting to see through the dusty gloom. Speaking into his comms unit, he said, “John, are there any heat signatures that look human?”</p><p>Static crackling followed and Scott frowned. Possibly being in the silo was an issue with the satellite link to John, but that would be unusual.</p><p>“Hello?” he called again, looking around.</p><p>A noise made him him start and in front of him, through the dust he could make out a figure.</p><p>“Hello? Are you OK? Do you need help?”</p><p>“Hello, Mr Tracy,’ replied a smooth, cultured voice, causing Scott’s heart to sink. The Hood. “We weren’t sure which of you would come, but this is a rather pleasant surprise.”</p><p>Scott took half a step back and pivoted, turning to leave the way that he had come but found his way blocked by two figures. Havoc and Fuse.</p><p>“Goin’ somewhere?” rasped Fuse, as Havoc grinned nastily.</p><p>Scott put his hands up, a gesture somewhere between proving he was unarmed and a shrug. “I don’t want any trouble.”</p><p>“Of course you don’t, Mr Tracy. Unfortunately for you, we need you to be a distraction for your brothers for a short while, just to give them something to keep them busy, whilst we make good our escape.”</p><p>Scott turned slowly back towards The Hood. “We’re not interested in you, we’re only concerned with controlling the situation here.”</p><p>“It’s always about control with you, isn’t it?” The Hood sneered. “There are no civilians here for you to be concerned with. We have what we came for. The Thunderbirds are the only fly in the ointment.”</p><p>A sudden kick to the back of his knees brought Scott down to his knees and he hit the ground hard. Fuse stepped forward, fisting his hand into Scott’s hair, dragging his head back. Scott reached up, grabbing hold of Fuse’s wrist to relieve the pressure on his head.</p><p>The Hood slowly walked closer. “I do wish we had more time, Mr Tracy. It’s always such a delight. However, I’m going to leave you in the company of my trusted colleagues for a short while. And then I do hope that I won’t be seeing you for some time. Of course, that’s assuming that you would be in any condition to accept visitors.” He smirked at his own humour before abruptly turning and walking back into the dusty gloom of the silo.</p><p>Fuse released his hold on Scott’s hair and Scott struggled to one knee, intending to stand. The blow to the back of his neck caught him completely by surprise and propelled him forward into the dust, his hands splayed in front of him. He rolled quickly to his right, narrowly avoiding Havoc’s boot as it stamped down into the place where the had been laying. Scott glanced towards the door, trying to weigh up his chances of reaching it in time, when Fuse began his assault. A savage kick caught him squarely in the stomach, stealing his breath and making him see stars. Then hands were on his arms, his shoulders, wrenching him back up into a kneeling position. As he curled forward, his head on his knees, trying to catch his breath, his wrists were dragged together and secured with a zip tie. Looking up was a mistake, as a fist slammed into the side of his face, rocking him sideways.</p><p>“I don’t….,” Scott began, but a savage backhand across his face spun his head around and he crashed down heavily against the dusty ground. Hot blood dripped down across his cheekbone, pooling in the dust below him, as he lay stunned and disorientated, his breath shallow and fast.</p><p>The comm link on his wrist crackled faintly and Scott tried to desperately to twist around, to somehow reach help, to reach his brothers. But Havoc’s boot came down firmly on his arm, making him wince and preventing him from moving.</p><p>Scott felt hands on him again, unzipping his flight suit. Then the feel of cold metal and wires and the sound of tape being stretched out.</p><p>“C’mon, Fuse,” Havoc hurried.</p><p>“Can’t hurry perfection,” Fuse answered, his hands pulling roughly at Scott, attaching tape to his skin.</p><p>“You can when the rest of the Thunderbirds will be on our doorstep in a minute! Hurry up!”</p><p>“Alright, done!” Fuse replied, straightening up. “Come on, let’s head out.”</p><p>Scott felt the pressure on his wrist ease and then lowered voices and stifled giggling. Then Fuse bent down and grabbed him by the lapels of his flight suit, lifting his upper body clear of the ground, their faces close.</p><p>“Little surprise for your brothers. They’re going to have a blast! Don’t make any sudden movements, eh,” Fuse laughed and released Scott who hit the ground with a thud, the dust raising and swirling around his face and into his eyes. He coughed and squeezed his eyes shut, tears making tracks in the grime on his face.</p><p>“Now what did I just say? I’d take it easy if I were you. I wouldn’t be jarring that parting gift that we’ve left you with.” Fuse barked with amusement again and turned on his heel.</p><p>Scott’s eyes remained closed tight as he listened to the footsteps get fainter. He coughed gently and rolled his shoulders, testing the bindings around his wrists. They held tight. Coughing again, he cracked his eyes open and blinked to clear the grit and tears. He was alone. The dust in the air was heavy and stifling. Looking down, Scott could see wires trailing across his arms and a small blinking box taped to his chest. Fuck! Was that what it looked like? Had they hooked him up to an explosive? Scott felt panic growing in him, even as he tried to remain calm, tried to reassure himself that he’d got out of worse scrapes than this.</p><p>Rolling slightly, Scott used his shoulders to pivot himself up onto his knees. Looking down again, he tried to struggle upright. He followed the wires with his eyes, trying and failing to find the trigger. Just two blinking lights, one red and one green. No countdown clock. It was almost like a router or a bluetooth receiver.</p><p>A noise made him glance up. The sound of a door scraping, metal on metal. And then a voice, one that he recognised. “Scott, you here?”</p><p>Scott glanced down at the box once more. <em>What was he missing?</em></p><p>“Scott?” The voice again, more urgently this time.</p><p>“Gordon, I’m here,” he called towards the door. Another glance down. If there was no trigger, then the bomb must be activated another way. But how?</p><p>“Jeez, Scott, I’m glad to hear your voice. Are you OK?” Gordon sounded relieved as he pushed the door to the silo open further, allowing sunlight to spill in from outside.</p><p>“I’ve been better, to be fair.” <em>Think, Scott, think.</em></p><p>“Hold up one second and we’ll get you out of here. Alan, he’s here!” Gordon yelled over his shoulder as he begun to walk towards the sound of Scott’s voice.</p><p>Scott listened to his brother approach, his brain trying to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. He heard Fuse’s voice again: <em>They’re going to have a blast.</em> The lack of a trigger or a countdown clock. <em>Think, Scott!</em> And suddenly everything slotted into place and he yelled in panic, “Gordon! Stop, don’t move!”</p><p>Gordon froze, calling back to Alan, “Al, wait.” And then to Scott, “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Look for a trip wire. It’ll be somewhere between you and me. Be careful. If you pull that thing we’re both going to go sky high.”</p><p>Gordon whistled out through his teeth and looked down at the swirling dust around his feet. “I’ve not got a hope of seeing it. Hang on! Alan!” he called. "Can you grab the laser guide from the plasma cutter?”</p><p>Scott could feel the sweat as it dripped down his forehead and tracked down his nose. Its salty taste mixed with blood as it trailed over his lips. He tried to keep his breathing shallow so as not to disturb the box on his chest. “Gordon, are you there?” he said quietly.</p><p>“I’m here, big bro. I wont leave.” Gordon soothed. “Tell me what happened.”</p><p>“It was The Hood. And I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m a bit banged up, I’m afraid.” Scott’s voice was low, his head was thumping and he ached all over.</p><p>“Virgil can sort you out, don’t worry.” Gordon felt Alan’s hand on his should and turned to take the laser guide from him. Switching it on, he ghosted the green laser light across the floor in front of him. “Wow, they really weren’t messing around.” The first of four separate wires was a foot in front of Gordon. If he’d have taken one more step he’d have killed his brother and probably himself also. “Alan, pass me the wire cutters.”</p><p>Gordon worked deftly, cutting the wires and illuminating the surrounding area as he went, checking for any that he’d missed. Eventually he reached Scott’s prone figure and bent down on his knees in front of him.</p><p>“I’m going to take this off your chest now, OK?” Gordon’s hands were on Scott’s face, tilting his head up towards him.</p><p>“Wait, check for any fail-safes, any booby traps!” Scott met Gordon’s eyes.</p><p>Gordon traced along the wires. The explosive itself was rather crude - Fuse had obviously saved the sophistication for the trigger. “It’s fine, we’re good.” Gordon pulled carefully at the tape, slowly inching the device away from his brother. Gordon carefully laid it to one side and then cut through the zip wire binding Scott’s hands. Scott groaned, the pain in his shoulders roaring as he moved them.</p><p>“Alan, come and give us a hand,” Gordon called quietly to Alan. Then to Scott, “We’re going to get you up and get you home, OK?” Scott nodded in understanding. With Alan on one side and Gordon on the other, Scott struggled to his feet, breathing hard, muttering choice words under his breath.</p><p>With an arm slung around each of his brother’s shoulders, the trio moved slowly and steadily towards the door. Scott stumbled forward, but Gordon caught him before he fell. They stood together for a minute or two as Scott regained his bearings. He sighed and his head dropped to his chest. “I thought I was going to fall,” he said.</p><p>“I’ve got you, I’ve always got you,” Gordon said quietly as they continued their progress towards the door and into the light.</p><p>-----oo00oo------</p>
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